Miss P
by Zanchev
Summary: A one night stand leads to a solid friendship based on lewd jokes, good scotch, and refreshing honesty. A year or so later, things keep building and building and Dean's finding it hard to cope, so he turns to his lover-turned-best-friend, Harry, begging for guidance. Will Harry be able to help the Winchesters avenge their mom? and how is Harry connected to the Hunter Miss P?
1. Chapter 1 - Prettiest Person in the Room

**Obligatory Disclaimer**

**I would like it to be duly noted that my name is Jerri Zanchev, and as such, I have no claim to the names Rowling, Kripke, or Singer. Any books, movies, television shows, franchises, or intellectual property belonging to said names - especially the Harry Potter franchise and the Supernatural franchise - do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form, and any recognisable material from these and any other published works is the sole property of the aforementioned people, and has been used for entertainment purposes only with no personal and/or monetary gain whatsoever.**

**Warning/Background Wossnames**

- This is a Harry Potter - Supernatural Crossover. Both timelines are as in canon at this point, being post Hogwarts Battle (ignoring the Epilogue), but before the start of season one of SPN. SPN is entirely canon up until the beginning of this story, whilst Harry Potter begins to drift from canon at about the fifth/sixth year mark.

- This will be a **Dean Winchester/Harry Potter** slash fiction. Other pairings (if any) are undecided at this point, but I may include a poll where y'all can vote for what you want.

- This will be a Ron Weasley/Molly Weasley/Albus Dumbledore/Ministry of Magic bashing fic. There will also be strained relations with John Winchester, but no outright hatred.

-There will be sex scenes, violence, bad language, and awful jokes in this work of fiction. Be warned.

-This fic will include a cross-dressing Harry. This does not mean that he is a girl, nor genderfluid, nor transgender, nor a drag queen. His cross-dressing is purely for protection purposes. I am making this known now to avoid any hate and/or awkward requests later on. :)

- This will include bisexual! Harry and Pansexual! Dean. By which I mean that Harry is attracted to both men and women, and Dean is attracted to people regardless of what happens to be in their pants.

- This is an unbeta'd fic at this point. This status may change at a later date.

**Blurb Thing**

A one night stand when Dean's twenty-five leads to a solid friendship based on lewd jokes, good scotch, and refreshing honesty. A year or so later, things keep building and building and Dean's finding it hard to cope, so he turns to his lover-turned-best-friend, Harry, begging for guidance. Will Harry be able to help the Winchesters avenge their mom? and how is Harry connected to the vicious Hunter veteran, Miss P?

*xXx*

**Chapter One - Prettiest Person in the Room**

Dean groaned under his breath as he fell into the stool at the local bar. He winced as the movement pulled at the gash on his side, tugging the bloodstained shirt away from the clot and ripping at the shallow cut even further. He was looking forward to downing a few fingers of whiskey and hitting the sack.

Who knew ghosts of children could be so damn vicious?

Dean threw the bartender a winning smile and ordered a double. As the guy rolled his eyes and turned to serve the next bastard at the bar, Dean pulled out his phone and groaned. His dad had left four fuckin' messages and half a dozen texts since he'd last checked, only a few hours ago. Why couldn't he just leave it alone? Dean wasn't a kid anymore, he was twenty-five for Christ's sake! He could handle a goddamn salt-n-burn just fine.

Shooting his father a quick "I'm fine, stop callin'" text, Dean turned to his whiskey with a grin. Elixir of life, is what it was, and Dean didn't hesitate to down the whole thing in one go. The warm, pleasant burn tingled his throat and sent a nice shiver down his spine, and Dean was quick to get another.

Sipping at his new drink, Dean cast his eyes over the rest of the club he'd found himself in. The place was pretty full, for a Thursday night, with dance music playing and a small dance floor with pulsing red and blue lights. Little tables were scattered around the edge of the room, with groups of young people drinking and chatting and enjoying a normal night out. Dean grinned, feeling a familiar sense of pride and satisfaction that all these kids were safe and didn't even have to know about the monsters he'd ganked that same night.

"Um, excuse me...?"

Dean, paused, glancing over to see a young woman shifting nervously next to him. He was quick to take in the slim build, the twisting fingers and the absolute mess of curled black hair that seemed to add about an inch to her height and completely cover her shoulders and back. A slow smile spread across Dean's face - this chick was hot! Dean leaned back against the bar slightly and offered her a confident smirk.

"Well, hello there, what can I do for you?" Dean drawled. The girl seemed to sigh slightly, before she looked him in the eye and offered him a quick, self-conscious smile. Dean barely saw the dimples, all attention locked on her out-of-this-fucking-_world_ green eyes. Dean noticed he was staring, and shook his head slightly to get himself to pay attention to the girl again.

"I, uh, well... I don't want to sound really weird or anything, but I just wanted to tell you that you're really attractive. Like, fucking gorgeous. So yeah. Congrats on your face, I guess."

Dean couldn't help the wide smile that sprang to his face at the girl's bizarre compliment. Her voice was smooth and soft with an English lilt, almost kinda husky, and oh-so-fucking sexy. Dean offered her a hand, which she took a bit shyly, but her grip was firm. Hell yeah.

"Name's Dean, my face thanks you."

"Harry," the girl smiled back at him. Dean ran the name over in his mind. Harry - it was quirky, probably short for Harriet or something. It suited the wild looking girl perfectly.

"Harry? Cool name," Dean got his hand back and gestured to the bar with his glass. "So, Harry, can I buy you a drink?"

"Are you the type of guy who's gonna drug me while my back is turned and have your wicked way?" Harry asked, fists propped on hips and eyebrow raised in a teasing challenge. Dean laughed and shook his head.

"Never."

"In that case," Harry's smirk sent a pleasant whiskey-shiver down Dean's spine. "You can buy me two."

Dean was quick to call the snarky bartender over, before giving Harry a calculating once-over.

"What would you like, Bright-eyes?" he grinned, ignoring the vomiting motions the bar dude was making in his direction. Harry snorted at the endearment, but looked over the liquor selection critically.

"Scotch. Neat, if you please."

Dean grinned. Girl liked the good stuff. He ordered a round of doubles for them both and toasted Harry with a slight leer. Harry rolled her eyes, but good-naturedly tapped her glass to his before downing the liquor like it was water. She gently placed the glass back down and grinned at Dean's gape. He couldn't help but stare, a warmth not entirely unlike the whiskey burn pooling in his stomach at Harry's too-green eyes and her sexy as all hell smirk.

Oh yeah, he was so gettin' some of that.

Dean quickly finished his own glass and shot Harry a wink. Harry's whole body seemed to light up with mischievous glee at Dean's flirting, and Dean had to shift around on his seat a bit before he could properly talk to the girl again. The twinkle in her eye told him that she knew exactly what he was doing, and Dean offered a shameless grin.

"So, Harry, what say I get you that second drink and then we go someplace more interesting?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Harry fuckin' _purred_, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm actually here with some friends, but you're welcome to join us at our table."

Dean glanced at the table Harry was pointing at, spotting two blondes and a brunette, and smiled wider than before. He nodded his hearty agreement to Harry, who laughed. Dean paused, soaking up the musical sound. It was innocent and bright, but also held a hint of that same adrenalin rush that Dean always associated with the Hunt. The whiskey-shiver was back.

"Well in that case, Dean," Harry shifted closer and _God_ if the sound of his name on her lips wasn't hot. "I believe you owe me a second drink."

"Same again?" Dean asked, receiving an amused nod in reply. A scotch and a beer later, Dean found himself following slightly swaying, jean-clad hips through the pulsing lights towards Harry's friends. He couldn't help but ignore the writhing dancers around him in favour of staring at Harry's hand in his, marveling at how small it was, belying the incredibly sexy strength with which Harry was dragging him through the club.

"Harry! There you are!"

Dean looked up to find that they were already at the table, and he got his first decent look at Harry's friends. They were all ridiculously attractive, with the brunette's slim build and bushy hair perfectly setting off her bright smile. The two blondes were exactly alike, all blond and slim and pale, yet totally opposite. The girl was like a pixie, with wispy hair and a knowing smile and petite everything, while the man was all angles and aristocratic arrogance. The group was mismatched to all hell, and yet they all looked totally calm, like they belonged.

As Dean watched Harry flounced over to press a kiss to the brunette's hair, before glancing around with a theatrical pout.

"Oh poo, there's only one spare seat. I'll have to find another from someplace."

Dean rolled his eyes and gently tugged Harry back to his side. He sat in the spare chair and pulled the wild girl into his lap with a cocky grin. Problem solved.

"Who's your new friend, Harry?" Male blond asked, his voice just as arrogantly rich as his tailored suit. Harry let out a giggle, as if she could hear what he was thinking, and leaned back into Dean's chest.

"This is Dean," Harry announced with a smile. "Dean, these are my friends; Hermione, Luna, and Draco."

Huh. Must be the Quirky Names Club or something, Dean mused as each friend waved at their name. Hermione - the brunette - offered a wide smile, while Male Blond - Draco? Weird - just smirked.

"So whose turn is it now?" Pixie blonde, the one called Luna, asked. Dean glanced around the group in confusion. Turn for what?

"We're playing truth or dare," Harry murmured to him as the others began debating rules and who was supposedly next in this game. Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at the girl in his lap, who flushed prettily.

"My turn's just been, I was dared to go get a drink from who I though was the prettiest person in the room."

"Prettiest Person?" Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as Harry blushed and hid behind her scotch. Dean felt oddly flattered, that of all the people Harry could've chosen in the place, she'd picked him - the loner at the bar in dirty jeans nursing a whiskey. Harry mumbled a series of curses at him, and he laughed.

"It's decided, then."

Dean turned back to the argument between the others, just in time to see them all turn to him expectantly. He blinked, not entirely sure what they wanted from him.

"Well, come on then Mister Prettiest-Person-In-The-Room," Draco drawled, leaning back in his chair. "Truth or dare?"

**AN -**

**Holy crap, it's been so long since I published anything on this site!**

**I feel really bad now :S**

**Anyway, this is the first installment of one of the many fics that's been bouncing around in my head recently. I've decided to just throw this first chapter up here and see what the response is like. If people like it and let me know that they like it (reviews and stuff hint hint) then I'll continue to write what I feel will be a pretty fun and quirky story.**

**So yeah, I'm not dead, I'm still writing, and I hope y'all like it!**

**Laters**

**Zanchev.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Double Dog Dare

**Chapter Two - Double Dog Dare**

It was two hours, several rounds of drinks, and many hilarious dares later that Dean found himself wandering around in the cool night air, Harry and his friends surrounding him with laughter and a refreshing sense of freedom. The club had kicked them out around one in the morning, and the gaggle of five meandered along the streets, laughing and shoving and shouting more and more ridiculous dares, the truth part of their game long forgotten.

"I dare you to climb that, Dragon!" Luna declared, gesturing at a tall, smooth tree in a park across the street. Dean laughed alongside the others as Draco huffed, but tore across the road and scrambled up the trunk with surprising grace, considering his inebriation. Dean casually slung his arm around Harry's shoulders, smirking when she leaned into him with a happy sound. Draco slid back down to the ground and sauntered back to the group, brushing bits of twig from his crisp shirt.

"Child's play, Luna dear," he drawled, earning another round of giggles. "Now, I believe 'Mione's been without a dare in too long!"

"Bring it, Ferret-boy," Dean admired Hermione's confident look, even if he didn't understand the whole ferret thing. It seemed to be one of those 'you had to be there' type scenarios, because Luna and Harry were clutching at their sides in laughter as Draco looked mockingly scandalized. Dean wasn't entirely sure how he pulled it off, but he did.

"Just for that, I dare you to go topless for the rest of the night," Draco pouted. Dean snickered, expecting the sensible girl to forfeit, only to gape as Hermione merely shrugged and pulled her shirt over her head, throwing it at Draco. The group laughed when it hit him in the face. Draco squawked, but tucked the neck of Hermione's shirt into the waistband of his trousers for safekeeping nonetheless.

"Harry's turn!" Luna grinned at the girl still under Dean's arm. Dean grinned at the smile on Hermione's face - this was going to be good.

Dean had to admit, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun. Everything was always hunting and training and protecting and killing. He rarely had the chance to drink for any reason other than to help him get to sleep, nor did he have friends to play dares with at half-past-too-early in the morning after all the bars were closed. The easy way that Harry's group had just accepted him into the fun made him ache a little for what his life could've been, had he never been a Hunter.

"... Dean."

Dean shook his head to drag himself back to the cool night air, and the smiling faces of his friends-for-one-night. He blinked bemusedly at the eager looks on Draco and Luna's faces. He glanced down at Harry, raising his eyebrows at the blush on her face. He gave Hermione a questioning look, and grinned at her inelegant snort.

"I dared Harry to snog you, Mister Prettiest-Person-In-The-Room. Pay attention!" she teased.

"We're not in a room anymore, that doesn't really work," Luna mused aloud, over the top of Draco mercilessly ribbing Harry for her flushed face. Dean pulled her a little closer, saving her from the spluttering and smirking that was going on to his right even as he gave Luna his attention. Hermione laughed at the blonde's completely tangential comment.

"We could just call him Mister Pretty?" she offered with a teasing eyebrow waggle in Dean's direction. Dean laughed, shaking his head at the absurd nickname even as Luna nodded seriously.

"That's perfect, 'Mione! Mister Pretty it is!"

Luna's word quickly became law, and Draco's teasing adapted, making Harry blush even further.

"Come on, Harry, don't be a wuss! It's just one little snog - and to be fair you picked him! Who wouldn't want to snog Mister Pretty?"

"Shut it, Drake!" Harry pouted as Draco stuck out his tongue in response. Dean snorted at the behavior even as he wondered if he'd ever been that childish. Luna and Hermione were laughing at the banter, and Dean shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

"Fine!" Harry shouted at long last, before turning in Dean's grasp and pulling him down by the collar of his leather jacket into what Dean thought had to be the best damn kiss he'd ever had. Jesus, but Harry knew how to work her tongue. Dean surrendered eagerly to the kiss, his fingers tangling in Harry's messy hair and his tongue carefully tracing her bottom lip. Dean firmly ignored the whistles and hollering that was coming from Harry's friends all around them, preferring instead to focus on the taste of scotch on Harry's tongue, the warmth of her hands on his neck and cheek, the smell of honey shampoo and sweat that soothed him with every gentle gust of wind sending Harry's curls to tickle his nose...

Harry pulled back first, a soft smile on her face. Dean grinned back goofily, casually flipping the bird to a theatrically hacking Draco. Hermione and Luna laughed as Draco sulked, and Harry rolled her eyes before pulling herself up to the tips of her toes to kiss Dean again - this time short and sweet and just as perfect as the first one. Dean wrapped Harry in a side hug once more and smirked.

"I do believe it's your turn, Bright Eyes," Dean nudged. Harry hummed thoughtfully, as his friends all gathered around eagerly, wondering what Harry would say. Finally she smirked up at Dean and placed a warm hand on his chest, over his heart.

"I dare Mister Pretty to kiss me again."

"Booooooo, Boring!" Luna and Draco whined and complained, but Dean could see the fond grins on their faces as he swooped down and kissed Harry a third time, indulging in the taste and warmth that seemed to make him feel relaxed and at peace. Harry pulled away again, and Dean bit his lip to keep from swearing. Harry's eyes were on fuckin' _fire_.

"I think the game's over now, guys. You head back, I'll walk Dean home," Harry announced suddenly. Dean couldn't help the triumphant smile on his face. Hermione and Luna voiced vague agreements, each kissing Harry on the cheek before walking off arm in arm, Hermione still topless. Draco said nothing, but his smirk was worth a thousand words as he pulled something small from his back pocket and threw it at Harry, before wiggling his fingers in a wave and sauntering off after the others.

Dean snuck a glance at the thing Draco had tossed and Harry had caught with absent-minded expertise, before he started to laugh. Harry just shook her head at the condom and tucked it into Dean's shirt pocket with a wink. Dean offered his arm and the two began to stroll back towards the club and Dean's car, nudging and teasing each other until finally Harry elbowed him just above the crotch and sprinted off, laughing her adrenalin-fix laugh.

Dean swore and tore after her, laughing along with her until finally he caught her, pinning her to the hood of the Impala and kissing her thoroughly. He gently traced her sides, running a palm up her back as she responded in kind, dragging blunt nails along his shoulder blades. Dean pulled back and simply enjoyed the flush on Harry's face, the swell on her well-kissed lips, and the bright glaze in her eyes.

Dean ushered her into his car, practically leaping in after her and speeding off towards his motel room. Harry spent the whole - admittedly short - drive tracing her fingers up Dean's thigh, around his hip, over the bulge in his jeans, and Dean had to bite his tongue and think of Old Man Bobby naked to keep from just pulling over and having sex right on the side of the road. A glance in Harry's direction told him that she knew exactly what she was doing, and a smirk curled on his lips.

Dean barely remembered to take his Baby's keys with him as he and Harry fumbled across the parking lot and crashed into Dean's room, kissing and tugging at clothes and hair. Harry hissed something - Dean couldn't make out the words - but the impatient swipe at his zipper made her intention pretty damn clear. Dean wasted no time stripping down to his boxers before nudging Harry to the bed and pushing her down to lay over her on the thin quilt.

Kissing and moaning and touching, Dean could feel Harry everywhere. Her scent was intoxicating, her touch like whiskey and fire on a November night, warm and relaxing and just fuckin' _perfect_. Dean slid his hand up her thigh, fumbling with the button on her jeans, before making a grunt of triumph and slipping his hand down into her panties and-

"Huh,"

Harry paused, glancing up at Dean's face shyly. Dean ran his fingers up and down Harry's cock curiously, watching her - no, _his _- eyelids flutter closed and a moan brush past those sinful lips.

"Guess Harry isn't short for Harriet, hm?" Dean grinned teasingly, too high on laughter and alcohol and Harry to care overly much about anything more than kissing and touching and enjoying himself.

"You... You're okay with this?" Harry asked nervously. Dean wondered how he could ever have thought that his voice was feminine enough to be a woman's, when it was so smooth and low. It sorta sounded like rum tastes, all heat and passion. In response to Harry's question, Dean leaned down and kissed his scotch-tainted lips, slipping his tongue into Harry's mouth with a satisfied moan.

"You're hot as fuck either way," Dean pulled back enough to mutter, his hands working on pulling Harry's girly jeans off his obviously muscled thighs. "I'm down if you are."

"Oh god yes," Harry groaned and pulled a smirking Dean down for another kiss.

**AN -**

**Sooooo, here's the second chapter!**

**Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed and favourited and followed and basically just enjoyed what I write. It's been surreal watching this story just explode in the three days since I posted the first chapter!**

**Due to the overwhelming support, I've decided to continue the story, with a new chapter being uploaded every Friday, for as long as I can manage it. I am, unfortunately, stupidly busy for the majority of my life, but I will try to be regular with posting, and I promise that even if it's sporadic, I will still be working on this story :)**

**I hope y'all keep enjoying Miss P, and I look forward to seeing y'all on the flip side.**

**-Z**


	3. Chapter 3 - Morning After Musings

**Chapter Three - Morning After Musings**

Harry rolled over, wincing at the harsh morning sun piercing the flimsy motel curtains. He hated the combination of cheap motels and heavy drinking. It always led to pain, of one sort or another. Harry shifted further away from the awful sunlight and bumped into a warm body. His eyes snapped open, staring at the broad, smooth back that was littered with tiny scars, so similar to the ones that were scattered on his own body.

Had Harry somehow landed himself in bed with an Auror? Harry bit down on his panic, scrambling backwards as silently as possible. The shift in the weight on the mattress caused Harry's bed partner to grunt and roll over. Harry had to give a quiet sigh of relief when he saw Dean's face, slightly scrunched in sleep. Memories of the night before - of laughing and drinking and doing stupid dares - came rushing back, and Harry smiled. It had been an excellent night, with an excellent finish.

Harry gently ran his fingers along a red scratch on Dean's shoulder with a proud smirk, enjoying the way Dean seemed to shiver at the touch. Harry was about to wake his one night lover with a nice round of early morning after sex, when his cell phone began to buzz in his jeans pocket on the other side of the room. Harry hissed out a parseltongue swear and rolled backwards out of the bed, landing on the pads of his feet as silently as he could manage, and lunging for his phone, thankful it was on silent.

"Hello?" Harry whispered as he picked up, sneaking back towards the bed and sliding beneath the sheets before Dean noticed the lack of warmth too much. He was already shifting. Harry began to card his fingers through Dean's hair, smiling as the other man quietened down slightly.

"Harry? Harry, darling, where are you?"

"Hi 'Mione," Harry smiled at the amusement and slight worry in his best friend's voice. "I'm currently in bed next to Mister Pretty, where are you?"

"Currently in bed next to Miss Moon," Harry laughed quietly at the smugness in Hermione's voice. They'd had a bet years ago over who could get little Luna to bed first. Harry had won, but Hermione had bedded their little Miss Moon almost every time since. Harry shook his head fondly at his two friends.

"Good night all round then, hm?" Harry smiled. Hermione hummed in agreement. Harry sighed contentedly, fingers still curled in Dean's hair, caressing his scalp. The gentle touches seemed to be easing some of the tenseness of Dean's shoulders, but Harry knew the other man would wake soon.

"I take it Mister Pretty didn't mind your little surprise, then?" Harry snorted softly at Hermione's tender phrasing.

"He seemed rather excited, to be honest, love," Harry could hear 'Mione rolling her eyes, at him, and grinned.

"When shall we expect you back, Harry?" Harry frowned at the more serious note in Hermione's voice. That was her war-veteran, constant vigilance tone of voice. Harry sighed, knowing his fun was over. Yeah, they had to be careful - they always were - but surely one night wasn't going to kill everyone or blow up the country.

"I'm not sure. I expect I'll get some breakfast and meander back. Expect me no later than five this evening, I suppose - it depends on Mister Pretty."

"Harry, be careful, you know he's-"

"He's Dean Winchester, son of John Winchester," Harry interrupted with another sigh. "Yes, 'Mione, I know. I knew as soon as he walked into the club last night. Just about every Hunter worth their kills knows the Winchesters on sight."

Harry could just picture Hermione worrying her lower lip with her teeth, and Luna curling closer to her and wrapping her arm around 'Mione's waist. Luna always knew when any of their little group needed comfort, conscious or not. Harry heard the tell-tale shift of cloth, and the tension-releasing sigh, and he smiled. He could always rely on his friends to be there, worrying and soothing and annoying and caring and just being themselves.

"Relax, 'Mione. I'll finish my little affair with Mister Pretty and be on your doorstep in last night's soiled jeans by sundown, as always. Don't worry about me."

"I always worry about you, Harry. It's practically my job."

"Sucky job you have, there, sweets," Harry laughed, and Hermione joined him. The laughter seemed to finally drag Dean into the land of the waking, and Harry offered the suddenly tense man a warm smile.

"Well, my dear, my Sleeping Beauty has just awoken, and I for one intend to ravish him for most of the morning. I'll see you by sundown, or call if something pops up," Harry told Hermione, enjoying the way Dean's face lit up at the word 'ravish'.

"All right, Harry darling. Just remember to be careful, and call Ginny today!"

"Yes, yes, I'll be sure to call the wife, now shoo! Let me get back to my mid-morning sex!"

Hermione just laughed as she hung up. Harry gazed fondly at the phone, before turning to grin at his bed partner. Dean smirked back, one large hand sliding up Harry's thigh to curl possessively at his hip. Harry hummed his approval and slid closer, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and kissing him gently.

"Morning, Mister Pretty," Harry purred, with a wide grin. Dean laughed at the nickname and pecked Harry back.

"Morning, Bright Eyes. What this I hear about a wife?"

Harry laughed, before sitting upright and stretching, overly aware of the way Dean's gaze lingered.

"That'd be Ginny, another friend of ours. She's still in London, working and such. We joke about with the wife thing because she had the most godawful crush on me when we were younger. It was practically hero-worship!"

Dean snickered at Harry's over dramatic shudder before sitting up as well and draping himself over Harry.

"Well, now that I've been reassured that you are not, in fact, a married man..."

"Oh please," Harry snorted. "You'd have done the exact same thing whether I was married or not."

"... Granted," Dean shrugged, unashamed grin painted on his handsome features. "That said, I now have no reasons to not just keep you here in my bed all day."

Harry gave a pleased hum and turned around ever so slowly. He trailed kisses up Dean's bare chest, nibbled his neck, and licked at his earlobe, making Dean shudder. Harry continued to kiss and graze his teeth over Dean's sensitive skin, the smirk never leaving his face.

"I have one good reason," Harry whispered as he made another loop up Dean's neck to his ear and back down. "Breakfast."

Any response Dean could have made was interrupted by a large growl from his stomach. Both men froze, before laughing and rolling out of bed. They shared a quick shower - that descended into a lengthy grab-n-grope - and threw on last night's clothes before heading out to the Impala. Harry whistled despite himself at the sight of the car that he hadn't really been able to pay much attention to the night before. She really was a beauty.

Dean shot Harry a proud grin and opened the door for him. Harry cooed at the 'little gentleman' as he slid into the passenger seat, laughing at the middle finger salute Dean gave him as he walked around the bonnet to slide behind the wheel. They coasted down the road, looking out for a diner that looked like it served more than three-day-old coffee and past-its-due-date-bacon. Harry finally spotted a half decent place, and they strolled in giggling and jabbing at each other.

"What can I getcha, dearies?" the slightly dumpy waitress reminded Harry vaguely of Ginny's mother, and his smile died slightly, before it was back full-force. He shot a look at Dean, who was engrossed in the menu, before turning back to the waitress.

"Good morning... Mandy," Harry greeted, glancing at Mandy's nameplate. "I would love a coffee, black, and a short stack with maple syrup, with an extra side of hashbrowns. What about you, Mister Pretty?"

Dean scowled good-naturedly at the teasing nickname, but gave Waitress Mandy a devastating grin nonetheless.

"I'll have a coffee, also black, and a special with an extra side of sausage."

Harry almost choked at the innuendo-laden glance Dean shot him, and was quick to thank Mandy as a distraction. Once the waitress was out of earshot, the two shared a look and burst out laughing.

"Okay, okay, I deserved that," Harry choked out, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Nicely done, good sir."

"What can I say?" Dean leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head in as arrogant a way as he possibly could. "I'm awesome."

"You keep telling yourself that, dear," Harry patted Dean's arm with a faux sympathetic expression, before laughing as he dodged the half-hearted swat. Mandy came by with their coffee and condiments, and Dean and Harry fell into a quieter discussion.

"So, Bright Eyes," Dean smirked at Harry over his coffee. "I know a grand total of two things about you - your name, and the fact that you have a dick. Hows about we talk a little more about ourselves, hm?"

Dean wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. He was a love-n-leave-'em type if ever there was one. He didn't do back stories, he didn't do breakfast. He certainly didn't do back stories _over_ breakfast. That was like a double no-go. And yet with Harry it was different. It was different from the moment he had come up and congratulated Dean on his face, of all things. All of sudden Dean was... well, a normal twenty something year old dude, hanging out and partying and sleeping with randoms and then going out for hangover-breakfasts the next day. Dean wasn't sure _why_ it was different, but it was.

And he wasn't sure he wanted that to change.

"You wanna do back stories over breakfast?" Harry asked with a snort. Dean wondered if Harry really could read his mind, but couldn't bring himself to care (and what would Dad say about that? Dean shuddered to think). Instead, Dean shrugged and sipped at his coffee. Harry seemed to ponder the idea, the two falling into the most comfortable silence Dean had ever born witness to. There was no awkward shifting or clearing of throats, just peace and quiet and utter surety. It was a novel concept, and one the Dean rather enjoyed. Mandy came around with their meals and a refill of coffee before Harry spoke again. Dean had just shoved a mouthful of egg and bacon in his mouth when Harry stared straight at him with those goddamn eyes.

"All right, let's do backstory breakfast," Harry grinned around a mouthful of pancake.

**AN - **

**Hey hey hey, here's chapter three!**

**Thanks so much to all you guys, y'all have been amazing me with the amount of love I've been getting - there's about seventy notifications of likes and follows for this story - and that was with me completely forgetting to tag characters! You guys are awesome.**

**We're seeing a bit more from Harry now, getting little hints at things that have happened to him and the gang. I've deviated quite a bit from HP canon in this story, and we should get to see some of that explained in the chapters to come.**

**I'm thinking of adding a poll so people can vote on what pairings they'd like to see - everything seen thus far is casual at best, and so there's tonnes of room for relationships to move and grow, and I'd be excited to have your input. Should I do the thing? **

**Thanks again for being awesome.**

**See y'all on the flip side.**

**-Z**


	4. Chapter 4 - Backstories and Breakfasts

**Chapter Four - Backstories and Breakfasts**

"What do you wanna know first, Mister Pretty?"

Dean chewed contemplatively, wondering just what he wanted to know about his mysterious one night lover. Harry's eyes seemed brighter than ever before, glinting with amusement over the off-white and overused coffee mug in his hands. Dean smiled around his mouthful.

"What about; what's your name? Full name, I mean," Dean started off with something simple, but also something that he could look up later, make sure that he was who he said he was, and keep him safe if needed. Harry gave a slow, lazy smile and gently placed his coffee to the side, before folding his hands underneath his chin.

"My name is Harriet Peterson."

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, and shot Harry a knowing smile. Harry just smirked indulgently back at him.

"No, really, your real name?" Dean prompted. Harry's smile widened.

"That is my real name. I am, legally, Miss Harriet Peterson, England born, Scotland bred, American owned," Harry was full on grinning now, and Dean got the feeling he was enjoying this a bit too much.

"So you're, what, legally female in America?" Dean asked, choking on his bacon when Harry nodded happily. "How'd you manage that?!"

"Knowing the right people and having the right amount of desperation." Harry's response wasn't exactly heartening.

"Are you... like... y'know... like, in transition?" Dean stumbled over his next question. Harry grinned and shook his head. Dean waited, hoping for a bit more information.

"Nah, I'm a bloke, inside and out. The womanly stuff is for a reason, just not that one."

"Cool, cool... I guess it's your turn," Dean sipped at his coffee, running what he'd learned through his mind. Harry smiled, his plate empty by now, and leaned forward.

"What's your name?"

Dean paused, every lesson with his father screaming at him to lie, avoid, deflect, get out of there... But the amused expectation apparent on Harry's face made it easy to ignore all of his Dad's rules and warnings and rants. With a flourish of eating utensils, Dean performed an elaborate half-bow from his seat.

"Dean Winchester, at your service."

Harry's smile widened as Dean seized his hand and pressed his lips to his palm, making an obnoxious kissing noise before shooting him a shit-eating grin. Dean could feel his heart racing, all senses on alert now that he'd given away one of the most important parts of himself. His body was a tool, like the dozens of daggers in the trunk of the Impala. His clothes and weapons, almost all of it was interchangeable, expendable, unnecessary. Everything Dean knew, everything he was, was his baby, and his name. To give away his name so freely was like throwing Harry his car keys and telling him to take the Impala out for a joyride.

But Harry - sweet, sexy, bubbly Harry - looked so naively happy to know his name that Dean, against everything he was ever taught, felt his heart rate dropping back down to normal levels, and his shoulders relaxing from their tense, ready-to-punch-things posture. Harry took his hand back and wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug once more, but his eyes twinkled with a deep satisfaction, and an innocent amusement that had Dean smiling more naturally than he could ever remember smiling before.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dean Winchester," Harry drawled. Dean couldn't help but shiver at the way Harry's accent caressed his name, the way his voice curled around Dean and warmed him up from the inside out. It was strange - Dean couldn't remember having a thing for accents before.

"My turn again," Dean finished his last mouthful of bacon and sat back with a happy sigh. "Why're you in America?"

"Funny story, really," Dean sat up. Harry's light, airy tone of voice, and bright smile set off all kinds of warning bells in the back of his head. Dean leaned forward, trying to look like he was just interested in the story Harry was spinning, his mind whirling through all sorts of things Harry could be hiding - I mean he managed to conceal a pretty impressive dick for the majority of the twelve or so hours they'd spent together, what else could he have secreted away?

"Me and the guys you met last night, we all went to the same school in Scotland. Boarding school, big, renovated castle type deal, very posh. Kinda wankery, actually. Anyway, we were all part of this club and we hung out with a few other guys and girls, typical school stuff, y'know? But some of the guys went a bit... weird, I guess you could say. Started spouting hate filled propaganda and really dodgy phrases and stuff. There was a terrorist group - I'm sure you saw it on the news, it went international for a bit in there - and long story short, some of the club had started believing the rubbish they were farting out. There was a big fight in the school grounds, and 'Mione, Draco, Luna, myself, and a few others ended up getting a lot of the terrorists caught. The gang fell apart and everything was going well, but a few of the old club members dodged jail and I, as unofficial leader of the club, was at the top of their shit list. So I bailed, came here, started wearing skirts. The rest is history."

Dean gaped. Of all the things he was expecting, that hadn't even made the maybe pile. Harry looked amused again, so Dean quickly slammed his mouth shut and offered a weak smile.

"Sounds intense," he offered, still wrapping his head around Harry's insane story. The ease with which the words had dropped from Harry's lips implied at least partial truth, but Dean felt there was a lot more Harry wasn't telling him - but what could be worse than what he'd already said?

"Eh," Harry shrugged and waved a negligent hand for more coffee. "What about you, Mister Pretty? What's your life story?"

Again, Dean had to battle within himself. What could he tell someone who'd already seen so much? What could he trust with someone who was obviously hiding things from him? Why was he even thinking about being honest - _again_ - with someone he'd known less than a day? In the end, it was all too easy to just rehearse the lines Dad had written all those years ago.

"My mom died in a house fire when I was four, so me 'n' my brother, Sammy, we ended up travelling with Dad around America all our lives. He's a travelling salesman, so we'd bounce from town to town, never in the same place more'n once, always on the move. I loved it, still love it, really. I'm on a road trip at the moment, before I head back to join the family business."

Harry's eyes were piercing holes in Dean's chest, and he hid a guilty wince behind a lazy shrug of his shoulders, smirk firmly in place. He waited for those eyes to skewer him, for Harry to declare him a liar and storm off, for him to slap Dean, or scream and shout and cause a scene...

But nothing happened. Harry smiled and nodded, before gesturing to the door. Dean was all too pleased to slap money on the table and follow him out the door. Harry took his hand and kissed it, swinging their joined fingers idly between them as they strolled towards the Impala.

"Your life sounds interesting, and a little fun. You'll have to tell me about what you and your brother got up to some time," Harry grinned, and Dean relaxed. He agreed quickly, enjoying the beaming smile Harry gave in response. Dean unlocked the Impala, but Harry made no move to get in. Dean paused, looking at him curiously.

"This is where we part ways for now, Mister Pretty. I've gotta get back to 'Mione before she eats Draco for being a prick, and you've gotta go pack up before they sell your room to someone else. Thanks for the fantastic night, and the backstory breakfast."

Dean found himself nodding sadly, and pulling Harry into a bear hug. Harry kissed him, coffee and maple syrup replacing last night's whiskey, and Dean almost didn't want to let go. He'd never such easy fun before, and he didn't want to never experience it again.

"Here," Harry grinned, sliding a hand into Dean's pocket, dangerously close to his already interested cock. "I fully expect you to keep in touch, Mister Pretty. You don't get to disappear."

Dean pulled out the stiff paper, eyeing the number scrawled on it in thick black ink. He knew he was most likely going to throw the number away - Dad's rules were there for a reason, after all. Still he nodded and smiled at Harry, and kissed him again, and watched him walk away down the road, whistling merrily.

Dean looked at the number again. He smiled at the chicken scratch handwriting and the weird paper - quirky, just like everything else about Harry and his friends. Without even fully realising he was doing it, Dean pulled out his phone and transferred the number from the page into it, saving it, after brief mental deliberation, under the name Harriet.

Dean pulled out his lighter and burned the parchment - if any of Harry's crazy story was even half true, he owed the guy enough to keep his secret and his information safe - and slid behind the wheel of his baby. Dean grinned at the little name on his phone - right under 'Dad', and just above 'Sammy'. He figured he'd been breaking Dad's rules for Harry this whole time, he may as well keep in contact with Bright Eyes.

Besides, it'd be nice to be Mister Pretty every once in a while.

**AN -**

**And here we have the final installment of Dean and Harry's first night :DD We get to explore the aftermath soon. Yay!**

**You guys have, yet again, absolutely blown me away with all the love. As much as I love the other story I'm also writing at the moment, Miss P is my baby, so having people enjoy it makes me ridiculously happy. Thanks all.**

**I'm gonna throw up a poll for pairings for this story. Dean/Harry will be definite, if eventual. I'm gonna be throwing up a whole bunch of different pairing ideas (including Hermione/Bobby, Hermione/Sam, Draco/Sam, Draco/Cas, Ginny/Jo, Luna/Cas...). I hope y'all take the time to throw your two cents into the shipping well. I'll add a thing for 'other', and if 'all can think of a pairing you'd like that I didn't include, lemme know via review and/or PM :D**

**The poll will last for between a fortnight and a month, depending on how I go.**

**And so, thanks again and I'll see y'all on the flip side.**

**Zanchev**

**EDIT: The poll is now up on my profile for those who wish to partake in the voting :D**


	5. Chapter 5 - Hello Bright Eyes

**Chapter Five - Hello Bright Eyes**

"Damn it Dean, where the hell were you!"

Dean sighed. His Dad had been a bit crazy about product placement since Dean'd gotten back from the ghost-child hunt. Apparently ignoring phone calls and having sex instead wasn't allowed under the Winchester roof - whichever motel that happened to be at the time was irrelevant. Dean hadn't been allowed to go off on his own again in the month and a half since he'd met the Quirky Name Club, as he still referred to them in his head.

Dad didn't know about them. Any of them, but especially not about Harry. Dean shuddered at the thought of how Dad would react to him - a dude who dressed like a hot chick, who had changed all his details after a run in with a terrorist group, who had also fucked his son, and then gotten said son to spill way more than he should the morning after. Dean thought that the words 'dude', 'fucked', and 'son' would be bad enough, without the rest thrown in.

"I was taking a leak, Dad. Nothing life threatening was going to happen in the two minutes you were gone to reception."

Jesus, Dad was taking it a bit too far. C'mon! Next the man was gonna want Dean to wear a fucking bell! Dean watched from his slouch on the bed as Dad prowled around the tiny room, growling to himself about 'not answering back' and 'respecting' and whatever the hell other shit was on his mind. Dean ignored him and flipped open his phone, selecting contacts and staring at the little, faintly glowing 'Harriet' that blinked into life.

Dean hadn't found the balls to call the number yet, nor had he really had the privacy. But it was still there, in his phone, weeks after he should have deleted it. Dean ran his thumb over the call button, idly wondering what if...

"We're leaving. Pack your shit, we're gone," Dad grumbled from the table by the TV. Dean rolled off the bed, landing on his feet with his trusty duffel already in hand. Routine seized him and Dean whirled around the room, packing clothes and books and weapons, idly cleaning and checking the guns and knives as he stowed them away. Dean could feel Dad watching, silent approval humming underneath the tension in the room. Dean wanted to snort - if only Dad knew how many times Dean had fucked up over that hunt.

Forget Sammy's exile, Dean would be fuckin' Mufasa'd. Thrown off the cliff into the metaphorical stampede of Dad-angst.

Dean shuddered. No thank you, he could go without all that horse-shit.

Impala loaded and purring, Dean pulled out of the motel lot and followed his father's truck out of town. Dean hadn't bothered asking where they were going. His job was to follow and protect, and he knew enough to not be left behind. Far as Dad was concerned, he knew enough, and Dean was too vaguely apathetic to push the issue.

It had been hard, getting back into the swing of things after the complete one-eighty of Club Night. Dean had actually hit a few random clubs and drunk and danced and acted like the young twenty-something he was on his way back to Dad, and having to snap back into work 24/7 had been tough to swallow. He'd done it, of course, because he was saving lives, and failing wasn't an option, but the vicious satisfaction of success was always tempered by the easy, laid back happiness of just enjoying himself.

Life had been so much fucking easier when he didn't know what he was missing. Ignorance is bliss and all that crap. But Dean did it, because it needed to be done, and no one else was gonna do it.

Dean saw the truck swerve to the side of the otherwise abandoned road and sighed. Dad either wanted to rant or had something important to say. The likelihood of it being the latter was enough that Dean couldn't risk it and just keep driving until Dad cooled down, so he pulled over just ahead of Dad's truck and scrambled out of the Impala. Dad waited until Dean was upright and practically at salute before he started speaking.

"I just got a call from Bobby. Apparently there's some weird omens in Ohio. I'm gonna check it out, you go ahead and finish this hunt. It's in Cedar Creek, some weird shit happening in their church, a couple kids ended up in hospital."

"Nebraska?!" Dean yelped, scanning Dad's intricate notes. They were meticulous, almost obsessively so, but Dean just looked them over, before tucking them under his arm and gripping his father's jacket. Dad followed suit, and they just looked each other over in their customary not-quite-a-hug, making-sure-you-won't-die farewell.

"Stay safe, yeah?" Dean smiled, letting his Dad go. Dad snorted as he hauled his ass back into his truck.

"Always am, Dean!" He yelled out the window as he pulled back onto the road and sped off. Dean chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes as he slid back behind the wheel of his baby. He speed-read the notes once more, before pulling his phone out and flicking it to the contacts. He stared at Harry's name for a few minutes, before putting the car in gear and heading towards Nebraska.

He made it to the state by nightfall, crashing at the nearest roadhouse for the greasiest burger on the menu. He spotted a couple across the room, leaning into each other and chatting happily, and couldn't help but wonder where Harry was. Did he live in that town where they met, or was he passing through? Was he travelling with his friends, or was it just a one-night catch up? Would he ever finally call the damn number, or was he forever destined to be a fuckin' floral handbag?

Dean sighed, paid for his meal, and set about finding a bed for the night. A skeevy motel room and enough febreeze to intoxicate an elephant later, Dean fell onto the thin mattress in his room and groaned. He'd make the last leg of the journey to Cedar Creek in the morning, but he'd need to properly go over Dad's stuff in the meantime, so he wasn't caught off guard.

Dean spread the information over the bed and started at the beginning. State, town, population, religions, percentages of nationalities... Basic information that was invaluable when it came to puzzling out what was terrorising the tiny town. And dear fuck was the place tiny - there was less than four hundred people in the whole area! Dean scanned a map of the town with a wince - the nearest goddamn motel was a fuckin' half-hour out!

Fuck that.

Dean shoved the papers away from himself in disgust. It would waste an hour of his day just getting in and out of the damn place, let alone trying to manoeuvre around the extremely close knit community to gank whatever was fuckin' with them. This job was churning out more and more suckage every second.

At least Dad wasn't here to make everything even more tense.

Dean found himself messing with his phone, staring at Harry's name _again_. Finally, with a scoff, Dean hit the call button and stretched out over Dad's notes, listening to the phone ring. Hopefully talking to Harry would distract him from the almighty wank-fest that was his life at the moment.

"Hello?"

Dean paused, taking a moment to bask in the luxury of Harry's voice. Dean could feel his stress ebbing away at the amusement and relaxation that seemed to lace Harry's every word. Harry had to ask 'hello' again before Dean pulled himself together enough to respond.

"Hello, Bright Eyes," he found himself grinning easily, much to his own surprise. Since when was it this easy to get him to loosen up? All thoughts of that ilk were quickly shoved aside at Harry's delighted laugh.

"Mister Pretty! Long time no see," Harry's voice seemed to curl down Dean's spine with the nickname, and Dean shivered a little. "How've you been?"

"Busy like all hell," Dean sighed. "Ended up re-joining the family business sooner than expected, haven't had a spare moment since. What about you and the rest of the Quirky Name Club?"

"Quirky Name Club?" Harry's snort made Dean grin even wider. "We've been well, missing our Mister Pretty, but well. Luna and Draco are actually with me at the moment, making obscene gestures and kissing faces."

Dean laughed, something warm and light filling his chest at the idea of the people he'd met so long ago actually missing him. He'd never been missed before.

"Well, tell Draco to shove it and threaten Luna on my behalf that if she doesn't pack it in, I'll kiss her face next time I see you all, yeah?"

Now he was playing with fire. Even giving in to the idea of the possibility of seeing them again was dangerous. They could get hurt, or find out what he was, or even be used against him. Monsters had used friends and family against Hunters before, after all. But Harry was laughing, and he could hear Draco and Luna squabbling in the background, so he made himself not worry about it.

"Luna says to not make promises you won't keep, Mister Pretty," Harry sounded amused, and Dean could just picture his green eyes flashing with intelligent humour. Dean laughed along with the people on the other end of the phone line, and stretched out further on the bed, groaning a little as his car-cramped shoulders strained and his neck popped.

"That sounded painful there, Dean, you ok?"

"I'm good, I'm good, just been driving all day," Dean assured Harry with a faint smile. He couldn't remember anyone ever sounding worried over him for something so small as back-ache. This whole friendship - and holy fuck Dean had an honest to God _friendship _goin' on here - was new territory to him.

"So where're you peddling your wares this time, Mister Pretty?"

Dean happily launched into a half-lecture, half-rant about Cedar-fucking-Creek and how small it was and how the closest motel was so far away and how dear God he didn't want to be in the goddamn ass-end of goddamn Nebraska. Harry was a perfect listener, laughing at Dean's crass remarks and humming in sympathy at his whining - not that he'd ever admit he was whining. Dean was just winding down when he heard Luna's voice on the other end of the call, distinguishable, but not clear enough to make out the words.

"You have my sympathies, Mister Pretty," Harry spoke up in the lull. Dean sat up when Harry sounded distracted. There was some mumbling before Harry spoke up again.

"Luna says to tell you La Llorona misses her lost child. She says it'll help."

Dean had heard Luna come out with bizarre things before, during their dare game, but the way Harry sounded so serious made him think that maybe there was something else to the outburst. Dean frowned, thinking. 'La Llorona' did sound vaguely familiar, but without Dad's journal or any computer, Dean wouldn't have a chance to figure out why until tomorrow at the earliest.

"Thanks, Luna!" Dean called through the phone, enjoying hearing Luna's tinkling laugh in response, before returning his attention to Harry. "Well, Bright Eyes, this has been a blast, but I gotta get me some shut eye if I'm gonna make it to Ass-Crack Nebraska tomorrow."

Harry's laugh sent a pleasant shiver down Dean's spine, and they made their farewells, Harry promising to give Hermione a big bear hug from him

"Good night, Mister Pretty," Harry's smile practically echoed down the line, causing Dean to grin goofily.

"Good night, Bright Eyes," He responded, hanging up the phone and spending the next hour staring at the ceiling, thinking of green.

**AN - **

**And so, Dean is back at work and the Quirky Name Club are enjoying life.**

**I'm really really loving this story, my friends. It's so exciting to write, I haven't written a humourous, light-hearted story in so long! They're usually so dark and broody. Broody McBrooderson.**

**Thanks for voting in the poll so far, guys! It's so great seeing people interested in this! I have removed the bottom 5 options from the poll, and gathered the approximate results after this first week. I will leave it up for another week, but then I'll close the poll and and either announce the final voted-upon pairings, or else give you guys a new poll for the final toss-ups.**

**The current winners for pairings are:**

**- Dean/Harry  
- Ellen/Bobby  
- Ginny/Jo  
- Sam/Hermione**

**It's quite interesting in regards to some of these, because there are a lot of you that want Castiel to join Dean and Harry, and a lot who want Luna to join Sam and Hermione, but there's also a lot of you who want Sam and Hermione by themselves, and a few who want Luna and Cas to hook up. Draco is also still totally up in the air. Such fun!**

**Anyway, thanks again guys for all your interest in this :) And I look forward to catchin' y'all on the flip side.**

**Zanchev**


	6. Chapter 6 - Cedar Creek

**Chapter Six - Cedar Creek**

It was well before sunrise when Dean sat bolt upright, wide awake. His eyes tore his room apart, trying to find what had his heart racing and his breath short. Upon finding nothing, he slowly released his death-grip on the jagged hunting dagger under his pillow and fell back with a groan. He was freaking out over nothing, it seemed.

Still, he dragged himself out of bed, grabbed his pistol, and began to do a routine sweep of the motel room. He checked salt lines, his weapons and his notes, before running a perimeter check on the whole room. Finally he noticed that the damn bathroom window was permanently wedged half-open, and the breeze had ruffled the dingy off-white doily curtain thing that was pinned limply to the wall in attempted decor. Dean groaned and rubbed at his face. All that for nothing, and now the sun was comin' up, so he couldn't get any more shut-eye.

Fuckin' Christ. What a perfect start to the day.

Dean stumbled around his motel room, packing up and throwing all his stuff into his duffel bag. He threw himself through the shower, wishing for better water pressure, before hauling his shit into the Impala and driving off. He almost didn't stop on his way out, practically hurling the keys from his window to the 'after hours' key slot.

It wasn't an overly long drive to get to Cedar Creek, but having to go to the motel, book a room for a week, _wait_ for a room to open up at check-in time, unpack his things so it looked like he was interested in actually staying in the place, and then turning around to find his way into the country's smallest fuckin' town was a pain. Dean was swearing fluently under his breath by the time the motel had a spare room for him to dump his stuff - how the hell was a motel like that so full?

Half the day was wasted already, and Dean was ready to just throw in the towel and head to the nearest bar and do the day over. His head ached, his stomach was protesting his lack of calories loudly, and he had this weird crick in his back that he just couldn't stretch out. Dean pulled his baby into the main street of Cedar Creek and sighed. It looked even worse than his ranting presumptions to Harry last night.

Just. Fucking. Perfect.

Dean's first port of call was the lone fast food joint in the immediate vicinity. Dad's notes in hand, Dean sequestered himself in the back corner of the way-too-bright dine-in section with a large everything, double onion. The spotty teenager behind the counter had looked on the verge of a panic attack when Dean growled his order at him, but Dean just couldn't find it in himself to give a flying rat's ass.

Munching on fries and trying not to look too much like a hung-over serial killer, Dean re read Dad's thoughts and notes. Most of it was reports and newspaper clippings of strange wailing, flickering lights, cold spots, typical ghost signs. It seemed pretty run of the mill to Dean, and he wondered why someone else hadn't come up here and ganked the thing already, if it was so open and shut.

Maybe no one else wanted to come to Ass-Crack, Nebraska either. Dean snorted, giving the spotty server a minor heart attack, judging by the way he yelped.

There was a couple of articles that did catch Dean's eye. They kept talking about kids - some went missing for a couple days, some hurt themselves in various ways, one kid landed himself in the hospital and died. There was no linking the reports in any way, they all seemed totally random and unconnected - except that in a town this goddamn small, nothing was coincidence.

Full and far happier than when he'd arrived, Dean stood and stretched, offering Mister Twitchy a grin on his way out of the joint. The poor bastard shuddered like a chihuahua on speed, and Dean laughed to himself as he strolled to his car and rummaged in the glove compartment for a notepad and pen. He grunted in triumph as he found a pen only half-chewed and locked the Impala carefully.

"Show time," Dean muttered to himself, plastering an easy going, 'talk to me I'm here for you' smile on his face and wandering down the street, looking for people who'd be likely to chat. This town was way too small for any fed or state marshal maneuvering, so he had to improvise. He wandered past an open store and caught the site of a group of four ladies, middle aged at best. Dean grinned.

Perfect.

He strolled into the store and began to browse, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation going on nearby. He heard crap about the weather, about the news, about 'young Miss Daisy over near the lake', and bit his tongue against the laughter that threatened to explode out of him. This place was like the setting of a C Grade slasher film. "Miss Daisy Done Got Got by the Scarecrow" or some bullshit.

Finally they started nattering about something worthwhile. Dean's 'tell me all your secrets' smile slid back onto his face as they began to gossip about 'poor Martha and her two boys'. From the sounds of it, the boys had gotten hurt while playing on the back road - because let's face it, there was only like one - and no one could figure out how they'd gotten so cut up. Dean snatched up the closest thing to pretend to buy if he needed to, and sidled closer to the women.

"Excuse me, so sorry to intrude, but I couldn't help overhearing something about two boys getting hurt? Are they all ok?" Dean asked, the picture of Concerned Model Citizen Number 38. At the surprised looks on the ladies' faces, Dean flashed them a smile that was all dimples and watched as they all melted to putty. The younger ones - who were still old enough to be Dean's Mom - giggled and flushed and tried to be flirty, while the elder ones - who were probably old enough to be Dad's Mom - eyed like some sorta prize steak, or stallion to sell to their niece, or their daughter's next door neighbour. Dean forced his grimace to look a bit more like a concerned frown and repeated his wish to hear about the 'poor boys'.

"Oh, it was simply awful!" one of the flirts gushed, her eyelids spasming in what Dean guessed was an attempt at batting them while trying to remain wide-eyed in eagerness. "They just disappeared one day, no one could find them for days - it was over a weekend, it was - and then they just showed up again, near the church, bleeding!"

"Bleeding?" Dean didn't have to fake the sharpness in his tone. Bleeding was so not good - spirits that made kids bleed were at the top of his 'gank on sight' list. The group of women all nodded in varying amounts of fervor, and the oldest (and largest) lady continued the story.

"The younger one - Jonothan, darling boy - had these terrible gashes on his face and his hands, and the elder - Caiden - had a rather nasty scratch on his stomach, and another on the back of his leg - like something had tried to drag him backwards! I'm sure I have no idea how it happened. Cedar creek is a quiet little place, everyone knows everyone! So it's a mystery as to who could've done this."

"No one's said that someone did this to them, Agatha, stop filling the boy's head with nonsense!" a kindly looking woman scolded her friend, before offering Dean a smile. "You're obviously passing through here, son, so I understand you'd be nervous about something trying to attack youngsters, but there's no need to worry, the boys most likely just got lost and fell."

"Thank you, ma'am, for putting my mind at ease," Dean smiled at her, waving his notepad in the air a little. "But I'm actually a freelance reporter, looking for stories. I'd be interested to see this - Martha, did you say? - see if she'd be happy to have me interview her, maybe put some small column in a nearby paper."

Agatha and the younger lady looked positively thrilled at the thought that they might be quoted in Dean's story, and Dean smiled at the whole group brightly, trying to radiate youthful exuberance The ladies chirruped and chatted and cooed over him and his notepad, but eventually they finally directed Dean to where he might find the Martha woman that had been mentioned so often.

Dean made his way back to his Baby, trying his best not to look too hasty. He was well aware of the sly glances being aimed at him – and his ass – so he did his best to look as cheerfully innocent as possible. Dean slid behind the wheel and drove off, waving to the gossiping ladies and heading towards his next lead.

**AN - **

**Hey all, here's your weekly fix of Miss P!**

**This chapter's a bit shorter, but it's basically the lead in to the action of next chapter, so bear with me please.**

**Absolutely loving all the love this story is getting, guys, keep it coming! I've been blessed with encouragement and ideas and reviews and follows and favourites and it's only kept me even more pumped to keep writing this story, so thank you all!**

**The poll - I'll be closing it today, and then opening a new one in the next few days, with the revised choices. There are some definite pairings which I will mention in the next AN, but a couple are still up in the air :P**

**So, as always, thank you all for everything, and I'll catch you on the flip side!**

**-Z**


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